


take a picture

by poetictragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Biting, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Rimming, Sexting, Sibling Incest, Spanking, photographing during sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:22:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/535977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetictragedy/pseuds/poetictragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Michael was eighteen, his parents died and he was granted custody of his nine year old brother, Lucifer.  Plans for college were put off until the kid was old enough that he could be trusted with being alone, and Michael’s been the kid’s everything — and vice versa. Now that Lucifer’s sixteen, Michael doesn't see him as the awkward little boy he used to be and, instead, starts seeing him as the gorgeous young man he is — all because of a photo that wasn't supposed to be sent to Michael, but was anyway.</p><p>(Michael's twenty-five and Lucifer is sixteen)</p>
            </blockquote>





	take a picture

When Michael Novak was eighteen, he wanted to be a lawyer; he wanted to go to school and make his family proud, while doing something that he loved to do which was helping people.  Having every intention to go through with these plans, Michael began applying to every school he could think of: Harvard, Stanford, Princeton, and a few colleges around his home town to stay close to his family. He waited for acceptance letters eagerly and got a few after he graduated before tragedy struck: his parents got into a car accident, both of them dying and leaving Michael and his nine year old brother, Lucifer, all alone.

For months after the death of their parents, Lucifer and Michael struggled to get into a routine that fit them both. It was hell for Michael to get Lucifer to go to school, to eat and to go to sleep on time, because the kid kept asking when their parents would be back, wondering where they went.  Even though Michael understood that the kid was too young to fully grasp the concept of death, he kind of wished that he did, so he didn’t have to keep saying _‘they’re dead, Luce; now please, stop asking.’_

It took them almost a year to fall into a nice routine that consisted of Michael working two jobs and Lucifer going to school every day, playing soccer and baseball when the seasons were in. The money Michael earned from both jobs - waiting tables and delivering newspapers - was enough to keep a roof over their head and food on the table, along with the money various family members sent every month or two. 

Now, seven years later, Lucifer has his own job and Michael is a bartender paying his way through college, making decent tips to keep  _good food_  in their fridge and pantry. He gave up the dream of becoming a lawyer to do something else that he loved - journalism. After the death of his parents, Michael started writing about anything and everything, and working for a newspaper and delivering them made him think about pursuing a career in that field. 

One Friday night, Michael comes in late from his shift at the bar to a quiet and seemingly empty house.  He figures that he  _is_  alone and he nudges his boots off at the door before pulling his shirt off, tossing it over his shoulder.  As he walks through the house, Michael scratches his stomach and yawns, moving the hand on his stomach to his hair, carding his fingers through the spiky black locks. 

“Luce?” Michael calls out, loudly, as he heads toward the kitchen, listening to any indication that Lucifer’s hope, grinning when he gets silence in response. “Must be at a friend’s house,” he mutters to himself, moving to the fridge, opening both doors, eyes surveying his options, his stomach growling impatiently.

Chuckling, Michael grabs a box of Chinese food and a bottle of water, nudging the fridge doors shut with his hip.  He moves to the sink and opens the drawer underneath it, grabbing a fork before shutting that with his hip as well, making his way into the living room.

Michael collapses on the couch and puts his food on the table, laying his shirt on the arm of the couch as he opens the box of food. He grabs the fork and starts eating, enjoying the silence for once and chewing thoughtfully, wondering where,  _exactly_ , Lucifer could be.

After a few more bites, he decides to text Lucifer and see where he is to avoid being the kind of brother that worries all night and doesn’t want to text their sibling in fear of bothering them.  Michael puts his food down and leans back against the couch, grabbing his phone from his pocket, unlocking it quickly. He taps the contacts button and brings Lucifer’s name up (it’s under ‘Little Shit’), typing out a quick message: “Hey, where are you at? Lemme know so I don’t worry myself to death.”

Once the message is sent, he sets his phone on the table and goes to finish his food, drowning it down with half the bottle of water, appalled at how hungry he was. He sucks on the top of the bottle and stares at his phone, head cocked to the side, waiting for Lucifer to text him back, alarmingly worried that something might have happened to him.

He sets the water back down and picks up his phone, about to call Lucifer when the device buzzes in his hand. Breathing a sigh of relief, Michael opens the message, his jaw dropping at the contents:  Lucifer shirtless and in his briefs, the waistband hanging low, showing off the v of his hips. Swallowing hard, Michael exits the message and sets his phone down quickly, absently licking his lips.

Staring at the phone, all Michael can think of is Lucifer’s body — and then he wonders who Lucifer was really sending that to, and Michael can feel his face and neck burn. He runs a hand down the side of his face, scrubbing the heel of his hand against his jaw and jumps when his phone goes off, vibrating louder and longer than before.

Michael picks up the phone, taps  _accept_  and puts it to his ear.

“Hello?”  
  
“Hey, Mikey.” Lucifer replies, laughing softly.  
  
“Lucifer, hey.” Michael breathes hard, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“You alright man? You sound out of breath.”

Michael blinks, steadies his breathing. “Yeah, I’m good; where are you?”

“I was at a friend’s, now I’m heading home.” Michael could hear music in the background, along with the thrum of an engine, and he swallowshard.

“Alright, just be careful, okay? Don’t drive while you’re on the phone,” Michael chastises, wishing he felt half as confident as he makes his voice sound.

Lucifer snorts and laughs again. “I’m  _almost home_ , Mikey — don’t get your panties in a bunch. Be there in five, see you.”

The line disconnects and Michael sets his phone back onto the table, moving to grab his shirt off the arm of the couch. He slips it on and moves both hands through his hair, waiting for Lucifer to come through the door and trying not to think of him shirtless, but he can’t stop himself.

While Michael waits his mind wanders and he starts thinking about what Lucifer’s got hidden underneath those briefs, the thought making Michael’s entire body grow warm. He knows that he’s blushing, so he tries to stop thinking about Lucifer in a way he’s only thought about men at the bar that throw themselves at him after only two drinks.

Finally, he calms down and he hears Lucifer’s car pull up in the driveway, the engine purring for a moment before shutting off. Michael’s heart pounds and his palms grow sweaty; he wipes his hands against his jeans and leans back against the couch, trying to act normal.

A few minutes later, the door opens and Michael listens to Lucifer’s footsteps, hearing him approach the living room before they stop. He turns his head, lifting both eyebrows and smiles at his brother, crossing one leg over the other.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks, keeping his voice light and calm.

Lucifer shrugs his shoulders and takes his jacket off. “It was fine,” he replies.

Nodding his head, Michael swallows hard when he notices that Lucifer’s wearing a tight-fitting gray shirt with a v-neck — along with a pair of tight jeans that hug him in all the right places.  Again, Michael wanders (in the back of his mind) what Lucifer’s cock looks like and he shifts on the couch.

“That’s good,” he says, voice now flat. “I need to talk to you about something. Come over here,” Michael pats the couch beside him and uncrosses his legs, leaning forward to grab his phone, raising a brow at Lucifer when he gives him a look that  _screams ’what did I do?’_

Michael laughs and picks up his phone. “You’re not in trouble, just come here.” 

“Okay…” Lucifer drags the word out and walks around the coffee table, taking a seat on the couch next to Michael, resting his elbows on his knees. “What’s this about?” There’s a hint of fear and confusion in Lucifer’s voice and Michael laughs quietly, bringing the picture message up, showing it to Lucifer.

When the kid looks at the screen his eyes go wide and he pales; half a second after that, his face turns bright red and he chews on his lower lip, looking at Michael through long eyelashes and dirty blond bangs. “Where’d you get that?” He asks, voice small and tight and Michael has to stop himself from laughing — or lunging forward to kiss the damn kid.

“You, uh, sent it to me. By mistake, I think.” Michael watches Lucifer’s reaction and exits the message, putting his phone back onto the table with a long and drawn out sigh. “I would tell you that what you did was wrong, but I can’t say I haven’t done the same - though I’m older, much older.”

“I’m so—” Lucifer starts, but Michael tuts him, smiling softly.

“It’s okay, really. Just be careful of who you send things like that to, okay? I don’t wanna get another photo and have it be more — wild, than that one. Understand me?” Michael’s voice takes an authoritative tone when he speaks the last word and Lucifer nods his head slowly, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“Now,” Michael starts off, rolling his neck from side to side, “who was that intended for?” He nods pointedly at the phone, not entirely sure if he wants to know the answer, jealousy boiling up to the surface, along with confusion as to  _why_  he would be jealous.

Biting his lip, Lucifer looks down at his lap and fidgets with his fingers, his entire face and neck turning a bright red. It’s almost cute, Michael thinks to himself as he watches his little brother quietly, expectantly.

“C’mon, Luce,” Michael encourages, “I won’t be mad. I promise; scout’s honor.”

Lucifer laughs and turns, looking at Michael. “What if it wasn’t an accident?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Lucifer starts, sighing heavily as he turns to stare at Michael, “what if I didn’t  _accidentally_  send that to you? What if it was meant for you all along — would you be mad at me? Or disgusted..” His face falls a bit, the jovial mood he was in before completely gone and Michael sighs, thinking about what Lucifer’s saying.

A long, still moment of silence passes and Michael runs a hand over the nape of his neck, scratching just below his skull. “I mean — Lucifer, you know that I’m your  _brother_ , right? And you’re sixteen years old, when I’m twenty-five.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes and snorts. “You don’t think I know how many different kinds of  _fucked up_  this is, Mikey?” 

“I didn’t say that, Luce. Listen to me for a second, would ya?” His voice drops low as he speaks and Michael moves his hand from his neck to Lucifer’s hand, wrapping it up in his own. “That picture you sent me was” — Michael bites his tongue and keeps himself from saying ‘fucking hot’ — “inappropriate. And not just because I’m your brother, but because you’re  _underage_. Do you get that?”

Nodding his head and swallowing hard, Lucifer wets his lips and lifts a hand, wiping at his eyes to keep the tears from streaming down his face. He drops that hand down and picks at his jeans, focusing on the feeling of Michael’s hand wrapped against the other, warm skin pressed against cold.

“I get it.” Lucifer’s voice is broken when he speaks and he suddenly flings himself at Michael, both arms going around his brother’s neck. Burying his face against the older man’s shoulder, Lucifer shuts his eyes tightly and grabs hold of the fabric of his shirt, tugging it gently. “But that doesn’t stop me from wanting this; I’ve wanted you for  _so long_ , Mikey… Please?” The ‘please’ comes out desperate, needy, and it makes Michael’s heart break a bit as he wraps his arms around Lucifer’s waist, pulling him close.

Their bodies press against each other and Michael bites back a groan, shifting so that his crotch is far away from Lucifer’s, so that his brother won’t feel him getting excited - if he does. Neither of them say anything for a long time and Michael just enjoys the feeling of Lucifer being pressed against him, his arms around his neck, the fingers playing with his shirt.

The two of them ease apart and Lucifer looks up at Michael with sad puppy eyes, his bottom lip pushed out a bit, his fingers moving down the backs of his brother’s arms. Michael shivers and closes his eyes, setting his jaw tightly as he moves his hands to Lucifer’s hips, screaming the word ‘no’ over and over in his mind as he leans forward, just barely brushing his lips against Lucifer’s.

A gasp leaves Lucifer’s lips and he closes his eyes, wrapping his hands around the tops of Michael’s forearms, lips completely slack against the older man’s. It takes a moment for him to realize what’s going on and, when it registers, Lucifer pushing his mouth against Michael’s, kissing him eagerly, moving both hands down to his wrists.

The kiss completely throws Michael off and he moans, feeling dizzy and lightheaded as Lucifer kisses him, returning the gesture just as passionately and as eagerly as the young man. When it becomes too much for Michael to handle - the warm, soft lips against his own and the way Lucifer’s tongue laps against his lower lip - he pulls away, gasping a bit, holding his brother at arm’s length on the couch.

“That was —” He breathes, trying to pull the right words together to form a coherent sentence but he keeps coming up blank. Licking his lips slowly, Michael stares at Lucifer and lets his eyes wander down to his parted lips, watching as his tongue darts out, the tip outlining the lower one. “Are you sure you want this, Luce?” 

Lucifer stops licking his lips and catches his tongue between his teeth, opening his eyes to look at Michael, nodding his head slowly. He breathes softly through his nose and drops both hands to the front of Michael’s jeans, popping the button quickly before working on the zipper, tugging it down as slow as possible. 

“I’m sure,” he mutters, leaning forward to catch Michael’s lips in a biting kiss, sliding a hand into his jeans once the zipper is down. Something hot surges through Michael’s body, almost like an electric shock, and it goes straight to his cock when he feels Lucifer’s hand on him, fingers sliding down his length experimentally. 

When Michael finally gets hold of his motor skills and controls them he nods his head and pulls away from the kiss, panting out. “Okay, as long as  _you_  want this — but if you want me to stop, tell me and I will. Don’t wanna do this if you’re not one hundred percent committed, got it?”

Snorting, Lucifer nods and grins at Michael, grabbing his cock through his briefs, stroking him up and down slowly. It takes all that Michael has not to pin the kid to the end of the couch and rut against him; he pulls Lucifer’s hand away before he loses control and kisses the inside of his wrist, smiling.

“Upstairs,” is all Michael says as he drops Lucifer’s hand and stands up, adjusting himself in his jeans before grabbing his phone. He walks around the coffee table and heads toward the stairs, throwing a glance at Lucifer, who’s sitting on the couch, expression awe struck. 

Laughing quietly to himself and shaking his head, Michael mounts the stairs and takes them two at a time, going down the hall and into his room. He peels his shirt off and tosses it onto the floor before shimmying his jeans down, kicking them aside. Once his clothes are off, Michael moves to the bed and palms himself through his briefs, listening to Lucifer walk up the stairs, his footsteps coming heavy and happening every few seconds, like the kid was unsure of what he was doing.

Michael sprawls out on the bed and lays his phone beside him, moving one hand underneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping a hand around the base of his cock. He strokes slowly, moaning out louder than necessary to get Lucifer’s attention, and arches off the bed when he hears the footsteps get closer. With his eyes closed and his legs spread, Michael keeps stroking his cock in his underwear, imagining the look on Lucifer’s face as he stands there, watching.

“Gonna join me?” Michael asks, voice deep and throaty, almost breathless as he strokes his cock a bit harder, already feeling like he’s going to come. The footsteps start up again - one, two, three sets of them - and Michael feels Lucifer’s presence at the side of the bed. 

He hums, his eyes fluttering open as he settles back down on the bed, rocking his hips back against the mattress. Lucifer swallows hard at the sight and starts to fumble with the button of his jeans, eyes never leaving the front of Michael’s briefs, watching as his hand move up and hits the front of the fabric.

After watching Lucifer fail a couple of times, Michael laughs and moves his hand out of his briefs, lifting both to the front of Lucifer’s jeans; he pops the button quickly and pushes the zipper down quickly, growling out, “Take ‘em off,  _now_.”

“Yes sir,” Lucifer says automatically, the ‘sir’ rolling off his tongue like it’s natural, and he obeys, his cheeks turning crimson. Laughing again, Michael turns over onto his side and then sits up, watching as Lucifer slides his jeans down, hearing the button clank against the floor when the kid kicks them away.

“I like how you call me sir.” The words come out as a smooth growl and Michael spreads his legs, pulling Lucifer between them, running his fingertips underneath the elastic of his boxers. “It makes me even harder, you know that? And you can see how hard I already am, can’t you.”

The feeling of Michael’s fingers moving against his skin makes Lucifer shudder and he thrusts his hips forward, moving a hand down to touch the front of Michael’s briefs. His fingers skim down the length of Michael’s cock and Lucifer moans at how hard he is — at how warm his cock is, even through the thin fabric. Swallowing thickly, Lucifer brushes his fingers across the head, feeling how damp his briefs are already, letting out a low moan.

“You want this inside you, Luce?” Michael asks, voice amused.

Lucifer thumbs across the head slowly, nodding. “Yeah, Mikey.”

“Say it. Say  _‘I want your cock in my ass,’_ or I won’t do it.” Michael’s voice is hard and loud -  _demanding_  - as he moves his hand underneath the waistband of Lucifer’s boxers, cupping his ass. He squeezes the flesh underneath his fingers and then slides the fabric down before pulling his hand away and smacking Lucifer’s ass roughly. “Say it,” he repeats, voice harder than before. 

“I —  _oh, fuck_ , Mikey.” Lucifer moans the words out and bites down on his lower lip, lifting his hand to move through Michael’s hair before the older man swats it away, pinning it behind his back. 

“What’d I say?” Michael growls, gripping Lucifer’s wrist.

Closing his eyes, Lucifer whimpers out, “Told me to say it.”

“And why haven’t you?” As he speaks, Michael rubs the spot where he smacked, making Lucifer hiss, grinning to himself. It takes Lucifer a minute to stop hissing and making small noises that are all just going to Michael’s cock and making him harder; he tugs Lucifer’s wrist impatiently.

“I want your -  _oh_  - cock in my ass, Mikey.  Want it real bad,  _please_.” Lucifer whines softly, twisting his wrist in Michael’s hold, moaning when his fingers tighten around it. His entire body is thrumming, cock hard and throbbing, waiting for the attention that he’s not even sure Michael will give it.

After a beat, Michael moves his hand around Lucifer’s thigh, muttering, “Good boy. S’my cock gonna be your first, Luce?” Swallowing hard, Lucifer nods his head and chews on the edge of his lip, looking down at Michael, his cheeks darkening. 

“Never bottomed before, want you to be the first.” And the way Lucifer’s talking sounds childish and pathetic but Michael loves it; it makes him move his hand to Lucifer’s cock, squeezing the base lightly, eliciting a moan from the young man. His hips buck forward and, once they do, Michael pulls his hand away from Lucifer’s cock, putting it on his hip instead. 

He pushes Lucifer back and stands, grinning. “On your knees, ass up,” he demands, moving toward the end of the bed, watching as Lucifer stands there, giving him a deer-in-the-headlights look. 

“Now, Lucifer.” Michael snaps his fingers and points to the bed which is all the encouragement Lucifer needs; he steps out of his boxers and moves onto the bed on his hands and knees, legs spread slightly. His ass sticks up in the air and Lucifer presses his chest toward the bed, biting down on his lip, body trembling in anticipation. “Good boy,” Michael praises as he moves to the nightstand, opening the top drawer.

“ _Mikey_.”

“Did I say you could talk, Luce?” Michael snaps, grabbing a condom and a bottle of lube from the drawer before shutting it. He watches Lucifer shake his head, listens to him whimper, and he swallows hard, moving back around so that he’s standing behind his brother, admiring his ass. 

“No,” Lucifer whimpers before falling silent, fingers twisted in the sheets.

“Good boy,” Michael whispers as he moves a hand over Lucifer’s ass, running his finger down the cleft slowly, circling Lucifer’s entrance when he gets there. “Can’t believe you’ve never had a cock up this gorgeous little ass of yours.” There’s a grunt of a response from Lucifer and Michael chuckles, leaning down to bite one of his cheeks, watching teeth marks form in the too-pale skin.

Getting an idea, Michael takes a step back and spreads Lucifer’s ass before leaning forward, tracing his entrance with the tip of his tongue. The kid’s entire body shudders and Michael laughs quietly before continuing to lick with long, slow swipes up and down. This elicits loud whines from Lucifer and Michael can’t help but laugh before his licks get harder and faster, his tongue brushing against Lucifer’s entrance roughly.

“Fuck —  _Mikey_.” Lucifer whimpers, pushing back against Michael’s tongue, biting down on his lower lip hard enough to make it bleed. From behind him, Michael just keeps going, barely giving the kid any acknowledgement as he starts to push his tongue inside of Lucifer, moaning against him. Pulling back, Michael licks from Lucifer’s balls to the top of his ass, biting his flesh.

“You like that?” He mutters against Lucifer’s skin, dragging his tongue back down.

“Yeah, fuck — keep going,  _please_.” There’s another desperate, needy ‘please’ that Michael can’t say no to, and probably wouldn’t even if he had the ability. Smirking, he nods and keeps going; fucking Lucifer’s hole with his tongue, moving a hand to his balls, cupping them gently, rolling them between his fingers.

The feeling of Michael’s tongue on his ass and his fingers rolling around his balls makes Lucifer shudder and he moans loudly, rocking back against Michael, begging to get fucked, begging for his cock.  Michael stops when he hears the begging and pulls away, quirking a brow as he massages both of Lucifer’s cheeks with his hands.

“Say that again.”

“What —  _Mikey_ , Jesus! Keep going.” Lucifer replies, impatiently.

“Nu-uh, not until you say it again.” Michael’s voice is harsh and low, fingers digging into Lucifer’s ass cheeks, grabbing them roughly. 

“I —” Lucifer’s words get cut off by the moan that leaves his throat and he presses his face against the mattress, laugh-moaning against it. When he pulls back, he’s panting and whining, pushing back against Michael’s hands as he whimpers out, “I want your cock in me  _now_ , please? Wanna feel you fuck me, want you to make it hurt — God, Mikey just  _do it_.”

Michael growls and straightens up, moving behind Lucifer to rub the head of his cock against his entrance. They moan in unison and Michael  _just barely_  presses into Lucifer until he screams out, whimpering loudly when Michael pulls back, his hands dropping away from his ass. “Can’t fuck you yet,” he mutters, “haven’t gotten you worked open so you can take my big, thick cock.” 

“Oh  _Christ_ ,” Lucifer groans, pushing his hips back against Michael, whining as he fists his hands into the sheets, pulling them roughly. “Then finger-fuck me already, Mikey. I’m not going to wait here all —” Lucifer’s words are cut off by, yet again, another moan when Michael brings his hand down and smacks his ass roughly, reaching around with the other hand, grabbing the lube.

“Don’t talk back to me.” He smacks Lucifer’s ass again, in the same spot, and rubs vigorously before pulling his hand away, pouring lube on two fingers. Once the digits are nice and slick, Michael presses them against Lucifer’s entrance and pushes in slowly, setting the lube down on the bed before grabbing Lucifer’s thigh, gripping it tightly. 

When Michael’s fingers push in, Lucifer lets out a loud, long moan, bucking his hips back against the older man’s hand, panting heavily. He feels like his insides are on fire the more Michael’s fingers slip in and the lube offers little resistance. Lucifer wants to tell his brother to stop from sheer pain alone, but doesn’t; he wants Michael’s cock inside of him, wants to feel his brother fuck him.

“You alright?” Michael asks, dropping the whole dominant bravado, his fingers stilling halfway inside of Lucifer. It takes the young man a moment to find his voice and, when he does, it’s shaky as he answers: “Yeah, Mikey; I - I’m good, keep going.”

Nodding his head and taking a deep breath, Michael starts to stroke Lucifer’s thigh, pushing the digits in further until they’re in to the last knuckle. He waits a minute, until Lucifer’s breathing calms down, and starts pulling his fingers out slowly, scissoring them as he does, feeling Lucifer stretch around him.

“Fuck, so tight,” he mutters, pulling his fingers out all the way and drizzling more lube on them before pushing back in. Lucifer moans loudly and bucks back, forcing Michael’s fingers in deeper; he crooks them when they’re all the way in and smiles at the noise that Lucifer makes. “That’s it, baby,” Michael growls as he separates his fingers even more, working Lucifer open quickly, all of his moans of pain turning into sighs and gasps of pleasure.

“Mikey, m’ready.” The words come out in between short gasps and Michael withdraws his fingers from Lucifer, pulling another gasp from him, biting down on his lower lip. Reaching around, Michael grabs the condom and tears the wrapper open with his teeth before pushing his briefs down and rolling the latex over his cock, making sure it’s snug at the base. 

After tossing the wrapper away, he grabs the lube and starts coating his cock, watching as Lucifer pushes his ass back, giving him a perfect view. “Fuck,” Michael mutters, mostly to himself, before he lines his cock up with Lucifer’s entrance, just barely pushing in, moving his hands to either of his brother’s hips, gripping them tightly. 

“Christ, it’s like a - goddamn - fucking -  _vice_  around my cock, shit.” Michael practically groans the words out, gasping in between a few of them, as he pushes his cock further into Lucifer. The man beneath him doesn’t say anything and Michael’s actually glad that he doesn’t, fearful that he might say that Michael’s hurting him and that would completely crush him. 

Instead, Lucifer lays there on the bed with his legs spread as wide as they go, hands twisted in the sheets, forehead pressed against the mattress. He breathes hard and relaxes, feeling Michael’s cock slide all the way in before hitting something inside him that makes him nearly scream. “Jesus — fucking —  _Christ_!”

Michael’s hips still and he blinks, staring at Lucifer, starting to feel bad. “What? What’s the matter? Fuck, I didn’t do anything, did I? Shit, Luce — I’m so sorr—”

“Shut up,” Lucifer laughs into the mattress, untangling his hands from the sheets to press them against the bed, holding himself up, “I’m  _fine_ ; you just - just hit something and it felt  _really_  good.” The last two words come out in a harsh breath and Lucifer looks over his shoulder at Michael, smiling reassuringly. “Keep going, jerk.” 

“Okay,” Michael mumbles, nodding as he pulls out halfway, groaning as Lucifer’s muscles tighten around him. It’s almost too much for Michael to take and he bites down on his lip, moaning around it as he snaps his hips forward, burying his cock inside Lucifer again. He hits Lucifer’s prostate a second time, causing the young man to cry out and drop his head forward, breathing heavily, Michael’s name a constant on his lips.

The air is heavy with the scent of sex and sweat and Michael starts thrusting into Lucifer faster, feeling sweat drip down the back of his neck, sliding between his shoulder; he wonders how in the fuck he’s gotten so hot, and then remembers  _who_  he’s fucking. Any normal person would stop, upon consciously realizing that they’re fucking their sibling, but it only makes Michael slam forward into Lucifer harder, both of them crying out at the same time. 

When Michael’s balls deep in Lucifer, he remembers that his phone is on the bed and he smirks, grabbing it with one of his hands, fumbling with it. He brings the camera option up and taps Lucifer on the back with the back of his hand.

“Turn around,” he mutters, waiting until Lucifer turns to look over his shoulder to snap his hips forward, taking a photo of Lucifer moaning. “Thanks,” he mutters, saving the picture before dropping his phone back onto the bed, moving his hand back to Lucifer’s hip, gripping it tightly.

“What —  _fuck_  — did you do th-that for?” Lucifer can barely speak, his words coming out in broken moans and short gasps, which make Michael fuck him harder, rolling his shoulders back nonchalantly. “Wanted a picture of you while I’m fucking you, s’all.”

They laugh together and Michael leans over Lucifer’s body, nipping across his shoulders before sinking his teeth into the young man’s skin, hard enough to break it. Lucifer moans loudly, saying Michael’s name like a goddamn prayer and if this whole situation weren’t dirty enough, Lucifer mixing ‘fuck me Michael’ in with ‘oh God’ and ‘Jesus Christ’ only makes it dirtier.

“Yeah, wanna come, baby?” Michael pants the words out against Lucifer’s skin, lapping against the bite mark before sinking his teeth into another spot on his shoulder. This pulls a scream - a full-blown fucking _scream_  - from Lucifer and his hips jerk forward, the head of his cock hitting Lucifer’s prostate again. The word ‘yeah’ gets lost in a myriad of noises and Michael bites down the curve of Lucifer’s spine, fucking him harder, losing rhythm. 

Lucifer whines loudly and dips his chest against the mattress just as Michael straightens up, moving one hand to Lucifer’s hair and slipping the other to his cock. He tangles his fingers in the sweat-slick blond locks and tugs gently, pulling a loud groan from Lucifer’s throat just as he wraps a hand around his cock. His hand strokes in time with the thrust of his hips and Michael throws his head back, pulling Lucifer’s hair even harder, their skin slapping together loudly.

“Mikey -  _Mikey_ , I’m gonna come, fuck.” Lucifer’s words get lost when Michael groans loudly, hips snapping against his brother’s ass, his entire body trembling. Sweat pours down their bodies and Michael moves his hand out of Lucifer’s hair, sliding it down the middle of his back, fucking him harder. 

The hand on Lucifer’s cock moves quickly, Michael’s thumb brushing against the head slowly, gathering pre-come before stroking down. And Lucifer bucks backwards and forwards, pushing and pulling against Michael, his entire body going hot as his orgasm builds.

“Come on, Luce,” Michael pants as he drags his hand over to Lucifer’s side, “come for me, baby. Come on, feel that cock in your ass? Feel how fucking  _hard_  it is? When you come -  _oh fuck_  - you’re gonna get _so fucking tight_ , and you’re gonna make me come. Don’t you want that, Luce?” 

“Yes -  _fuck yes_ , wanna make you come.” Lucifer’s words are broken and he repeats them like a mantra until his orgasm hits and he screams Michael’s name, rocking his hips backwards as he presses his face against the mattress. His moans are muffled by the sheets but they’re still loud enough for Michael to register what they are and he nearly screams himself when Lucifer clenches around his cock.

His thrusts get more shallow and hard until Michael feels his orgasm hit and he comes hard, Lucifer’s name a near-scream on his lips. Panting, Michael still his hips and leans over Lucifer, kissing the back of his neck and breathing hard against his skin. 

They lay like that until their breathing returns to normal and Michael pushes himself up, pulling out of Lucifer with a whine that mirrors the young man’s. He chuckles and leans down, kissing Lucifer’s ass before pulling the condom off and dropping it onto the trash bin next to his bed. 

“You okay?” He asks, as he gets on the bed, moving his clean hand to Lucifer’s hair, fingers running through it slowly. For a moment, Lucifer stays silent, breathing against the sheets before turning over onto his side, wincing as he looks at Michael.

He nods and mumbles, “I’m okay; my ass hurts, but I’m okay.”

Michael laughs and shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss Lucifer’s sweat-slick forehead. He keeps his lips pressed against it and sighs deeply, exhaling through his nostrils, his hand still in Lucifer’s hair.

“You can’t tell anyone we did this, okay?” Michael breaks the silence and pulls away, studying Lucifer’s eyes quietly, chewing on his lower lip. The young man nods at him and lays on his back, causing Michael to drop his hand onto his chest.

“I won’t. And  _you_ ,” Lucifer points a finger at Michael, grinning, “better either delete that picture or not let anyone see your phone.

Michael snorts and lays next to Lucifer. “You know I won’t. I need to get a memory card strictly for photos of you naked or in little clothing - you know, for my own personal collection.”

“Ass,” Lucifer mumbles.

“You love me,” Michael retorts; the ‘yeah’ unspoken by both of them. 


End file.
